The Rise Of A New Power
by Dimensional Traveler 009
Summary: Two years after Canon, Harry is thrown into a new Universe where Voldemort rules as a Supreme emperor and he himself died as an infant. He resents the loss of his free life without Voldemort. Coming into terms with his own loss he sees the pain and grief in the eyes of the people in the new verse. Righteous Anger, leads to his unlocking of the Power mentioned in the first prophecy.


**The Rise Of A New Power**

* * *

**The Prophecy**

* * *

27 years, of Horror, Violence, Destruction and Sorrow. That's all they knew. The war had taken its toll on the people of Europe, but more importantly it had taken away their hope. The same hope that had fuelled them to fight the Dark Forces that had conquered their homeland.

The two most prominent questions on everybody's mind, When will this war end? If yes, Will I be alive to celebrate?

The unspoken answer or the harsh reality was realized by the people of Britain with the fall of the British Ministry in June 1982. For the people of France it was during the October of 1983.

The whole of Europe lost its hope on 1st of September 1986, with the fall of the last 'Light Resistance fort', Hogwarts Castle. People would forever talk about the one on one battle between the Hogwarts Headmaster and the Dark Lord. The Chaotic magic that had prevailed that evening in an amazing display of power had come to an end with the defeat of the leader of the light. The Order of the Phoenix and their leader had been forced to flee, lest be killed.

When was the last time people smiled for no reason, or even smiled for that matter? When was the last time Children were heard Gossiping and laughing or even behaved like teenagers for that matter? When was the last time a small family of four could sit by the fire and have dinner without having to look out of the window every five minutes expecting an attack?

When was the last time people, celebrated Christmas or New year or even lived for a few minutes without an emergency portkey within hands reach?

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was tired, of everything. He was feeling every one of his 115 years, just seeing the weary and haunted looks on all of the faces of his former students. He would love nothing more than to step on towards his 'Next Great Adventure', but he couldn't, not while he had the responsibility bearing down on his shoulders.

Without him, what was left of the resistance would crumble like an avalanche. So he carried himself, with what strength a 115 year old man could muster, doing his level best to make life livable. His only wish was to see a world without Voldemort. A world where people smiled, laughed, loved …. He nostalgically remembered his time as Headmaster, bearing down from the Head Table upon the shining and intelligent faces of the youth as they chatted, gossiped, argued and laughed.

The thought of the person currently occupying the Hogwarts's Headmaster's office, made his blood boil, a murderer, a psychotic megalomanaic, who was once his student. It deeply saddened and hurt him to see of how his former student had turned out. Now though was not the time for these idle emotions and thoughts, he was the Leader of the Order of the Phoenix and currently had a meeting to attend.

A wave of his wand, his older wand ignited the fireplace. The loss of the Elder Wand was just another added bonus to his suffering. As long as Tom processed the Elder wand, they would have to lay low, bid their time by helping the muggle and muggleborn populus.

Mustering the will to continue, he moved towards the fireplace and disappeared in a flash of green flames.

* * *

**In Another Universe**

Harry Potter was a happy man. 2 years and 4 months had passed since he had left the British community. He had few regrets, most of which seemed insignificant and unimportant. How was he now, compared to 2 years ago? Was he happy? That was the only thing that mattered to him.

He loved Magic, he really did, but he hated the sheep of the Wizarding community. The easily fallible people, proclaiming him to be their _Savior _as soon as he had offed Lord Moldy-Shorts. Whereas mere months before the feat they had been hunting him down, plastering his photo titled 'Undesirable No 1'.

Idiots, the lot of them. What the Wizarding World needed was a hero, someone they could always rely upon. Should the hero's thoughts and sentiments coincide with their own, he or she would be praised, flattered and looked up to.

Should the hero break the cold hearted truth to them, they would distance themselves, resorting to slandering he or she in the rag they called as the Prophet.

First year – Hailed as a Hero, Boy-Who-Lived, etc.

Second year – Parselmouth, The next Dark Lord, etc.

Third year – Poor boy, Pity him, Protect him.

Fourth year – Cheat, Liar, Glory seeking hound, etc.

Fifth year – Delusional, Liar, Attention seeking prat, etc.

Sixth year – The Chosen one, prophesy child, back to Savior, etc.

Seventh year – Undesirable Number 1

Post Duel with Voldemort – Back to Savior, The one who conquered the Dark Lord, The New Light Lord, etc.

The Wizarding World was great, it showed him many things but it severely lacked two tools needed for developement – Logic and Common Sense.

Without those it was impossible to survive, at least for a _normal_ Human being like him. However he soon found out that such narrow minded fools existed in Britain and Britain only.

French Ministry of Magic, now that was the epitome of development. People were viewed and judged based on their abilities and personalities rather than blood. You may be a Werewolf, a Vampire, a Veela or a Fae, all that mattered was your skill and your worth was determined solely based on that, and your O.W.L results of course.

The American ministry was much larger than both the British and France ministry. It had advanced way too much for its own good, and was currently rocking the economy by tinkering and mixing muggle and magical devices. The other countries were quick to follow in its approach. The only exception were the British who were currently busy, writing down laws against Muggleborns and Muggles in general with Draco Malfoy as their Scion.

The ferret had managed to stay out of Azkaban, claiming the usual Imperius Curse Bollock story. Fudge being the bumbling fool he was had welcomed both Father and Son with open arms. He had pointed out during his last few days in Britain, the fact that the Minister Fudge was letting Death eaters roam free, but unsurprisingly his comments regarding such matters had been claimed trivial and were swept under the carpet.

His departure from Britain had of course caused a massive uproar among the populace. They needed a puppet for their show, well, they had better get a new one, because Harry Potter was going abroad. He wasn't going to stay in a Hell-Hole where criminals and lunatics were allowed to roam free.

Word of the fabled Boy-Who-Lived leaving Britain had spread around the world as he had received letters of invitation to various countries and some Magical Universities. He had an international Visa equivalent for the magical world, allowing him to travel to any and every county he wished to. He had learnt a few months into his travels that the British and especially the British Minister of Magic was somewhat of a common joke throughout the world. They had brought this upon themselves by passing insane laws and going through with foolish acts in the name of tradition.

He hadn't spoken to any of his past … acquaintances. The last time he had heard of them, had been around a year ago, when Hermione had sent him a letter or an invitation to her and Weasley's wedding. He had tossed it into the bin, seeing as his views about them had changed after their final argument in which Hermione had taken Weasley's side. How his logical friend could agree with the absurd decisions of the red head was beyond him? Maybe she didn't want to get dumped, yep, that was it. She had literally no one, except for himself and Ron, and since he had no romantic feeling for her, the stupid red head he had called as his best-mate for 7 years had become her only choice.

Thinking back to their argument, he couldn't help but laugh at Ron's proposal to let the press know that they had been hunting Horcruxes throughout their 7th year. The boy wanted fame, a simple and logical deduction seeing as he hadn't really contributed to anything in their hunt, except for childishly running away. The boy hadn't helped him fight Voldemort, staying inside the Castle's walls while he had dueled the Dark Tosser.

Fame, he could allow Ron Weasley to have, but the knowledge of Horcruxes was far too important to reveal to the people. Hermione had vehemently argued that the world needed to know the truth, claiming that they were only 17 and they needed adults to take care of the situation. He had known instantly that the Brunette was lying between her teeth. He had known Hermione for seven years, and he knew an excuse when he heard one, however pathetic it may have been.

They had left a single option open for him. He had obliviated both of them on any and every knowledge they had had on Horcruxes taking care to summon and destroy all of the books Hermione had collected on the topic. It hurt a bit, obliviating his lifelong friends, but he knew that Ron wouldn't keep his mouth shut and Hermione, well she wouldn't sit still with him performing memory charms on her fiancé. Furthermore, you could say that the rift between the Golden Trio had reached such a point, where he hadn't felt any remorse for Obliviating his _friends_. All they would recall would be their nomadic movement from one place to another and the spell castings they had practiced from their seventh year books with or without the fights and arguments that had prevailed.

One of the prevailing factors that had instigated his imminent withdrawal from the country had been the youngest female Weasley, Ginny. The damn girl didn't seem to get the clue that 'He wasn't interested'. How he had kissed the girl in their sixth year, he would never know.

Yet surprisingly she wasn't the only one to blame. Molly Weasley had made it her full time job to get them together. Every single second he had spent at the Burrow, had been filled with repressed anger and major annoyance. The Weasley Matriarch seemed fixated on her 'Big Weasley family'. Her excuse was that he needed a loving caring family and that Ginerva was well trained to provide him with that.

Then one day, the girl had to go and try to kiss him. His battle instincts had enabled him to fluidly move out of the way at the last moment, albeit awkwardly, making her tumble forwards and go down with a bang. From a third persons point of view it would've definitely appeared funny, _If_ said third person had not been the girls brother.

Ronald Weasley had to go all 'protective' and yell, "What? My sister isn't good enough for you Potter." Acting like a protective big brother, the tactless prat.

He had literally stormed out of the Burrow, and hadn't been back since then. Hermione had been unable to neither visit nor speak to him due to her _boyfriend_.

Seeing as he had enough money to live a lifetime of vacations, he had set out abroad with nothing but a travelling bag and a small pouch charmed to retrieve money from his vault in Gringotts.

Looking back he was quite thankful for his decision. He had come a long way in learning _Magic_, actually _learning Magic_. Whilst dueling Voldemort he had done so with the raw power he had gained access to after the destruction of the Horcrux within him, giving him an edge in the fight. His spell repertoire was rather limited. His creativity in using Transfiguration and Charms whilst dueling was moderate at best.

He had attended a Magical University in America for around a year, learning extensively, the Mind Arts and surprisingly Warding. He was damn good in Runes and Arithmancy for his own good. He was quite proud to say that he was now an accomplished Master Legilimens and Occlumens. For Warding he still had around two books to finish, which he had taken to doing so for an hour before going to sleep.

The past year had been hectic to say the least. Learning 5 years' worth of Runes and Arithmancy from scratch was not an easy feat. But fueled with a desire to learn, something he had never processed at Hogwarts, at least not until hearing the Prophecy, was the driving factor for him to proceed. His mentors and teachers had been extremely pleased saying that he could have done his O.W.L.S better than what he had achieved, by just putting in a little bit more effort.

Nonetheless, he spent most of his time using the spell creation techniques he had learnt from pursuing Arithmancy to create new and more effective spells. Technically, what he was doing, was supposed to be illegal. With no one to monitor or report him, he was getting bolder and more daring. The reason for his sudden enthusiasm in learning and improving his spell arsenal whilst creating new spells, he did not know.

Maybe it was this gut wrenching feeling that he was going to be dragged into some sort of mess, or maybe he was just getting paranoid. Whatever, he didn't have anything to lose from learning and he had enough free time even with these activities.

He never stayed at the same place for long, resorting to a nomadic movement. Not only did he enjoy frequent travelling whilst familiarizing with various important places in the world, he wanted to avoid any and every form of contact with the Great Bloddy Britain.

A few days after leaving the country he had received numerous pleas and requests from the people of Britain. A simple mail re-directing ward, one which had been easy to find in the books and also easy to cast, with only Hermione keyed to it had taken care of his little problem.

Only whilst using the actual Ward he had come to appreciate its usefulness. Hence arose his interest in Warding, which prompted him to enroll himself in a University. He chose Ancient Runes and Arithmancy, for he was advised by the staff whilst enrolling that both topics were indispensible for fully grasping the art of Warding. Occlumecy and Legilimency, he learnt for fun as side courses though both were dead useful.

All in all, Harry Potter was currently a very happy man who was enjoying his new burden free life and independence.

* * *

James Potter was an ex-Auror. He had been an Auror up until 1982, abandoning his position fleeing the Ministry after the takeover like his numerous colleagues and friends. Less than a year after the death of his first-born a new disaster had fallen on him. He loathed living in constant paranoia. He loathed sending his children to Hogwarts where they were treated as slaves by the purebloods. He loathed the fact that his children had to spend 9 months of every year under the eyes of the murderer of his first born child.

He hated the new ministry for enforcing the law for all magical Children in Europe to attend Hogwarts where they were constantly controlled and watched by a Dark Lord. He loathed the annulment of his marriage with the love of his life Lily Evans by one of the notorious laws of the new Ministry stating that A Pureblood must always marry a Pureblood. Marrying a Half-Blood is sneered upon but marrying a Muggle-Born is considered a crime. His _wife _lived with him in the same house and they slept on the same bed, but to anyone other than them she would be '_Mudblood Evans_' and not Lady Potter.

His children were Selena Evans, Jake Evans and Rose Evans. Evans and not _Potter_. It hurt dammit. They would never be able to feel the pride of being a Potter.

And the worst part of his life was the fact that he couldn't do anything about it. He was powerless. He was helpless. He wanted nothing more than for Voldemort to roll over one day and die. The snake faced bastard had taken everything and even more from him. His child, his wife, his parents and his will to live.

His will to live, had reduced to a small fraction of what it used to be. His death would leave his family penniless, seeing as Halfbloods can't control the vaults of ancient families such as the Potter's. Another _law_ passed by the New Ministry. All the Potter fortune would fall into the hands of those scum Death Eaters, most probably the Malfoy's seeing as the closest relative to the Potter's were the Blacks. Since his best mate was in Azkaban as a convicted murderer, neither he nor his son Reg could claim the Potter fortune. The next closest relative to the Potter's were the Malfoys and the Lestranges through the Blacks of course. They would naturally be entitled to his _wealth_. Should he get captured by the Death Eaters, he would be doomed. They would keep him alive until on of their own was able enough to take on the House of Potter. After Malfoy came of age, he would be killed, making Malfoy as the Head of house Potter.

He couldn't stand the thought of the blonde ponce's having access to his family vaults, while his wife and three children suffered without a roof above their heads as Potter manor along with various other treasures and properties would be lost. If not through blood relative purebloods, then the Potter fortune would fall to the ministry, or rather, The Minister for Magic (for Britain) Lucius Malfoy.

He couldn't just walk into Gringotts and empty the vaults as he was a _wanted rebel. _He wasn't by any means concerned about his status in the society, especially one ruled by Death Eaters, but it was a difficult point to forget when you know that your children are being sneered upon or are punished for your actions. He and the other Order members had taken to wearing masks after that, though they knew that it was only a matter of time before their identities became public.

He could see the lack of faith among the remaining members of the Order of the Phoenix. What were they fighting for? How were they going to win? He could feel his own spirit deteriorate with every Order meeting. Countless plans and missions were laid out on every table at the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, but none were being executed. They had neither the manpower nor the resources to achieve their goals. There were roughly fifty of them. The rest were in Azkaban.

Dumbledore for one had his picture posted in nearly every turn, all over Diagon Alley underneath the words of, 'Undesirable Number 1'. Moody was number two of course. The people who flocked the streets knew the truth. They knew that the supposedly wanted criminals were once some of the most respected Wizards and Witches.

They cared. They cared enough to allow the sadness to fill their hearts at the state of the country and once classmates. They allowed the tears to fall when inside the seclusion of their home.

But never once did they act on those tears to prevent any more. They turned a blind eye to the happenings. They went along with the flow. They didn't care about the direction or the destination, drawing satisfaction and peacefulness from the safety of their family and loved ones.

Before Voldemorts reign over Europe, convicted Death Eaters had the liberty to access their money as Gringotts on a more neutral ground. Sadly, it fell in 1984 when Voldemort bombarded it with a huge army of Magical Creatures comprising of Dragons, Werewolves and a few Vampires. The Goblins were a warrior race trained for combat, but one could hold on only for so long before giving in.

With the imprisonment of the Goblins, any and all funds the Order of the Phoenix had were all cut off. They had a few scrap galleleons here and there. Other than that all the families were broke.

He hated living like this. Life just …. _Sucked_.

* * *

**Azkaban Prison**

Azkaban prison hosted approximately around two thousand prisoners with nearly 3000 Dementors guarding them. It was a huge fortress located on a lone island whose coordinates were among the top secrets guarded by the ministry. The mere sight of it was enough to send chills down the spine of Godric Gryffindor himself.

The temperature recorded by the ministry two months before showed a decrement from the former 5.6 degree to 4.3 degrees owing to the increase in Dementor population. The cold was nothing compared to the effects the Dementors had on its victims. Around eighty percent of Azkaban's prisoners were Muggle-Borns, Half-Bloods, Dark Creatures and other living beings which were not 'Pure'. Among the Remaining twenty percent nearly all belonged to either the Order of the Phoenix or some Resistance in Europe.

Once such person was Sirius Orion Black. Thrown into Azkaban charged with muder. He had survived whilst keeping his sanity for nearly twelve years. His anity allowed him to review the memories more than a decade ago. After the start of Voldemorts regime all Purebloods had been given a second _chance_. Either Join him or …..

He had rebelled … a lot. Thinking back, he had protested and acted against each and every law that the New Ministry had put forth. Gathering along with a few light Wizard Purebloods, he had proven to be a thorn in Voldemorts _perfect_ world. They couldn't touch him for he was Pureblood and a Black. The Ministry's own _laws_ and _ideals_ prevented him from getting arrested. They had worked for three years, before the Ministry decided to act out and remove their only opposition. Convicted for the murder of his own brother Regulus, he was thrown into Azkaban in a trial without Veritaserum.

He didn't know what had befallen his brother Regulus. The last he had heard was that his brother had somehow gotten himself killed in Voldemorts service. He had cared for Regulus, even after the brat had taken the Dark Mark. To be sitting in Azkaban for the murder of a fellow Pure-Blood, a brother too at that was pretty ironic, even by Voldemorts standards.

He idly wondered how his wife was doing. Emmeline Black nee Vance and Sirius Orion Black had been married a few months shortly after James and Lily's wedding. His kids, Regulus Sirius Black named after his brother and Mary Emmeline Black would be fifteen and sixteen respectively. Reg would be starting his fifth year, O.W.L year in a few months while Mary would be studying for her O.W.L.S right now. He sighed wistfully wondering how they looked like right now. The last time he had seen them, they had been little squirts of ages three and four.

Twelve years without seeing so much as a friendly face was slowly sapping his will away. He didn't know how much longer he would be able to keep going. He could've kept still, knowing his efforts of going against the Ministry would result in imprisonment. He glanced at the Black family Ring on his finger a heartbroken expression marring his face.

A few months were left before he lost the Black family name too along with his life. If he _accidentally_ died, the Black family magic would choose Draco Malfoy as its head seeing as there were no other contestants. The ring and family leadership would fall to Draco Malfoy, seeing as he was the oldest living heir related to the Black family. The sole Contestant, his son, Regulus ... he thoughts dared not venture into that area. The Dementors would love to feel his despair at the thought of his son dying. He held a small hope that Voldemort would not harm his _Pureblood_ son. His family would be left without a name, to further deepen the humiliation. Draco Malfoy would see to that.

He felt a cold wave of ice wash over him as the guards of Azkaban approached his cell for their morning meal.

* * *

**Celestial Estate**

A huge manor, surrounded by extensive and long lost Wards with a modified Fidelius, which was created by Filius Flitwick and his prized apprentice Lily Evans, belonging to Albus Dumbledore was the usual location for the weekly Order meetings.

Roughly around sixty witches and wizards were in attendance, a significantly small number, compared to the Dark Lord's forces. They assembled in a Grand hall equaling half the size of the Great Hall of Hogwarts in size, near the entrance to the inside of the manor. A long table was setup, where the most prominent members took their seats with Dumbledore at the head of the table. The rest were assembled around the long table, most of whom were mostly new recruits and information gathering day to day people.

Those among the long table most prominently known were Alastor Moody, Minerva McGonagall, FiliusFlitwick, Saul Croaker, Remus Lupin, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Conwall Wright, Mary and Elizabeth Jones, James Potter, Lily Evans (Potter), Emmeline Black, Arthur and Molly Weasley, Marlene McKinnon. These were some of the oldest Order members, since 1977.

The others included Saul Croaker, Amelia Bones, Bill and Charlie Weasley, Nymphadora Tonks, Fleur Delacour, Fred and George Weasley. Amelia and Saul had joined the order after the fall of the ministry in 1982. Rookwood had taken over Croakers position as the head of the Department of Mysteries while Bellatrix Lestrange had become the head of the DMLE. Saul had brought with him around 5 Unspeakables among which two were dead. Amelia had come along with around 15 Aurors of which only 7 remained.

The Department of Mystries no longer remained a separate part of the ministry but had become Voldemorts private research lab. The unspeakables who worked there were tasked with reporting each and every one of their discoveries to the Dark Lord. Furthermore the Department of Mysteries contained only Purebloods, making it quite difficult to recruit members for the order.

The last of the Order members strangled into the hall as the meeting started with Moody giving his report, "Food supplies have gone down by another five percent Albus. Money is at an all-time low, and may stoop even lower, without a means for a steady income. Selling potions and offering tutoring isn't workin anymore Albus. We need to hit gold … soon".

"Yes Headmaster, we have been forced to sell potions at loss for the sake of avoiding wastage. The new Apothecary owners know that we are from the Order, and they have figured out that we must be getting desperate. I believe that they have aligned with the Ministry, seeing as there are _Aurors_ patrolling around the shop each time we exit. I think that they are trying to capture some of the other _wanted _Order members" spoke up Jenny Sparrow, a new muggleborn recruit. The word Aurors was spoken with bitterness and spite.

"Yes Headmaster, In fact one of them even hit me with a tracking charm. I was lucky enough to see him sheath his wand to get suspicious enough to check myself for spells. I shudder to think what would've happened otherwise seeing as I was headed for a Order meeting" said Eva Grans, a close friend of Jenny.

Both Jenny and Eva were some of the best potion brewers in the Order, having a natural affinity for the subject. They would've been easily selected as Healers what with their Outstanding's in Potions and Charms, had it not been for Voldemort's regime. Still, their main duty to the Order besides brewing Potions was the healing of injured Order members.

Dumbledore sighed, "Please, I urge you all to check yourselves for spells here on before coming to the Order meetings. It is imperative that our safe house remains hidden"

"CONSTANT VIGILANCE" barked Moody, while the other members nodded solemly.

The dejected atmosphere was broken by a small sound coming from Croaker. Every head turned towards him, as he fumbled inside of his pocket before extracting a small mirror. An enchanted mirror used by the Marauders while in separate detentions had become the source of communication for the Order.

"What is it Mark?" he yelled into the mirror as Dumbledore and the Order members strained their ears to hear what their source within the DoM was trying to covey.

No sound reached their ears, owing to the charms on the mirror, preventing anyone apart from the user from hearing anything.

" …oes he know?"

" …. "

"Rookwood?"

" …. "

"When? Who discovered it first?"

" …. "

" … The Contents?"

" …. "

"Yes …. It will be difficult"

" …. "

"Keep me informed"  
Croaker seemed ready to faint any second. He composed himself before facing the expectant Order members. There was a flash of hope in his eyes before it faded into reservation. He looked up at Dumbledoe's questioning look before sighing and saying.

"There has been a Prophecy" Everyone held their breath "And it concerns the Dark Lord"

A full 10 seconds passed before all Chaos erupted.

* * *

The Dark Lord, The Dark ruler, The Supreme Emperor, Sorceror, … Lord Voldemort was perched majestically on the Hogwarts Headmasters chair looking upon the numerous students of _his_ school. They were the future citizens of Great Magical Britain. And he was happy to say that they were under his thumb. By controlling and influencing the future magical population, he was effectively controlling Britain.

He could've become the Minister for Magic, Chief Warlock, etc easily enough. But, it was not worth it in the end. His faithful followers occupied the top positions in the society. He was as good as or better than a MoM or Chief Warlock. Appointing Lucius as the MoM was one of the craftiest things he had done. The man's loyalty was bordering on the lines of Slavery. He didn't care about the politics or the legislative laws that the man passed. When he needed a break or a new rule, all he needed to do was mention it casually and his followers would take care of it.

His eyes drifted towards the Malfoy heir. The sixteen year old boy would be becoming of age in a few months. If any of his boasting were to become true, then the boy would be Lord Malfoy-Black-Potter, the head of three important pureblood families. Once again his thoughts drifted back to both the Potters and Blacks. Should he give Regulus Black a chance to claim the Black house headship? It was a question he had been pondering about for the last few weeks. He knew that Sirius Black would be silently taken care of once Draco came of age, so that the Malfoy heir could contest for the House of Black.

He also had a sneaking doubt whether or not the family magic of House Black would accept young Draco as the head. If not then the male Black would've to be taken care of, thus forcing the Black family magic to either perish or choose Draco. He hoped that such a situation didn't arise. He would rather not spill _Pure_ Blood. Loyal Lucius must be giddy with joy to get his hands on the Black Fortune. The man never seemed content with his fortune.

The Potter family was an entirely different story. Though Jake Evans was a Mudlblood Evans at Hogwarts, each year his Hogwarts letter was printed as Jake Potter. It was a rather tiresome job to make corrections, and he wasn't the only one. Many halfbloods with a pureblood father had this … discrepancy.

If Draco were to try and claim the Potter estate then both Jake as well as Regulus needed to be killed. He didn't worry much about the Potter boy, seeing as he was only a halfblood. Furthermore his parents were part of Dumbledore and his gang of birds causing trouble every now and then. He would have killed the man had it not been for that blasted Phoenix of his swooping down and flaming him away.

It would be a good lesson to James Potter and his mudblood. But if Draco needed to become the Potter family head needed both James and Jake dead. Even then he would have the problem of Regulus putting in his claim. Anyways it was Malfoy's problem. He wouldn't need to interfere, seeing as it didn't affect him much. But contrary to his feelings, the headship of the House of Potter mattered a lot. Though not the direct descendants, the Potters were as closest to the Gryffindor bloodline as you could get.

He smirked seeing a first year look down fearfully after meeting his eyes.

There was simply no one who dared challenge him. The way _his_ students looked down on their plates, without so much as turning their heads or making a sound. The fear could be seen when they met his eyes. He relished in it. He loved it. The fear alone was like his elixir for immortality.

His immortality was another subject, a touchy subject to be exact. People had often questioned his age, in hopes of him dying a natural death. He had found it funny, after Crucio-ing the hell out of the reporter. It had become a taboo since that day on.

No-one knew of his Horcruxes. No-One. It would be impossible for anyone to know. Horcruxes were an obscure branch of magic, that had been lost over time. He had destroyed the last of the texts on Horcruxes himself. He doubted even Dumbledore knew what a Horcrux was, but he wouldn't put it past the old man.

Even if Dubledore knew what a Horcrux was, what was the possibility that the old man knew that he had created one let alone seven, along with leaving out the location of his anchors. He had instilled some exceedingly dangerous defenses in pace to protect his soul pieces.

At the beginning of his rule many of his loyal followers had wanted to declare war on the muggle world. He had managed to divert their attention away from creating a potentially disastrous enemy by introducing a law allowing _Magicals_ to _own_ muggles. He knew that Lucius had approximately 30 – 40 muggle slaves in his Mansion.

Mass disappearance from the muggle world would also lead to suspicion from the side of the muggle government. Therefore muggle hunting seasons were allocated sporadically and randomly. It was scheduled by the cunning of Lucius Malfoy.

Entry into the Muggle World was banned. Any magical distortion in the muggle world would be picked up by sensors placed well within the ministry. If it happened to be a mudblood, it would be isolated from its parents and left in an orphanage created specially for mudbloods. Should it be a magical, then the minimum punishment would be a stay in Azkaban for a week. But catching the intruder it seemed was really tiresome. One could apparate into a muggle suburban and disapparate out immediately. Though magical tracers meant to track any form of magic along with the magical aura of the person were available, the workload proved to be bothersome.

He gazed around the Great Hall, his eyes sweeping across the muggle-born who were wearing torn and tattered rags, passig through the halfbloods and finally resting upon the purebloods, whose lavish and arrogant faces spoke of wealth and a desire for power. One in particular, Draco Malfoy always seemed to catch his attention. Then again, Draco was special. Special in a way to the Dark Lord that no one would understand. He would indeed make the House of Potter and Black proud should he succeed in his endeavor to claim both houses.

He needed to send his men to capture James Potter. The blasted man had forseen the possibility and would do everything to evade capture. Maybe it was time to call in Clara. Oh yes, she would be perfect for the job. His most beautiful and trusted assassin. After all, She had never failed him before, in the last five years.

Lord Voldemorts thoughts were broken by a high pitched choking coming from his right. All the magicals in the great hall turned towards the Divination professor who seemed to have gone into a trance. He had kept her as a professor even though he had no faith in Divination. She had been the one to give the first prophecy regarding him, even though the prophecy ball in the department of Mysteries had vanished after the death of the two infants Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom. He had kept her at Hogwarts so as to gain first knowledge of any other prophecy she maybe making in the future. He watched with fascination as her eyes gained a glazed look. Her voice increased in pitch, her seer blood showing its presence.

His actions were not wasted as he heard the words of a Prophecy … a true Prophecy ...

_"__The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... travelling through space and time ... and the Dark Lord will see him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives ... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches as the fifth month dies ..."_

A shocked silence followed as the all the staff and students turned to look towards him. He saw red as he pointed his wand at Trelawney.

_Avada __Kedavra_

The post of Divination at Hogwarts became vacant.


End file.
